


Foxes and Wolves

by BreLakor



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreLakor/pseuds/BreLakor
Summary: She understood exactly how he felt, but unlike him, she didn't have a choice. And the backhanded compliments, the crude flirting - they drove her just as mad as all the expectations everyone placed on her, when all she really wanted was to go back to the Mere. 
Short Bishop/KC fic in which the KC is a druid and just as antisocial as Bishop, although maybe not as evil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short-ish NWN2 OC story. KC/Bishop romance. The KC is a druid and a loner, she's a bit like Bishop in that she hates being in service to Neverwinter but she's not as mean/evil as he is. I kind of figure that the only way you could have a happy ending with Bishop's romance is if he's with someone who doesn't try to tie him down and this KC at least understands that I guess. Very loosely based off the Bishop romance mod, so some credit must go to the authors of that mod!
> 
> Anywho, it'll be in three parts and the timeline will jump around a little bit. The first is right before Bishop's betrayal in KC POV, the second gives some backstory on Bishop's POV throughout the campaign and leading up to the betrayal, and the third is in the KC POV giving a bit of post game conclusion to their romance. Hope somebody out there enjoys this but I know this game is very old, heh... Rated M because some adult themes.

She shouldn't have shouted at him, he didn't deserve that and it wasn't his fault.

 

Casavir was too... nice, too frustrating. He was a good man, but she couldn't love him when he only saw the world in black and white while she firmly coloured hers with grey. Still, it wasn't his fault she was so on edge because of the war and the way she'd snapped at him was unfair. Even if she could never reconcile the differences between their beliefs he hadn't earned her scorn. She'd have to apologise later, try and explain herself to him – that she didn't hate him, far less held anything against him and did hope, one day perhaps, he'd find someone that made him happy.

 

It just couldn't be her.

 

She couldn't be with a paladin when she'd spent her whole life in balance as a druid. Perhaps he forgot, only saw the knighthood, the shining symbol of justice that Neverwinter so fervently tried to make her but at heart she was none of that, and if not for the affront to nature that the horde of undead posed, she'd have lost her wits completely months ago.

 

Hell, she was almost there regardless, she hated being Nasher's poster girl for righteousness, all she wanted sometimes was to disappear back into the Mere the way she'd done most of her childhood. Running through grass and shambles, more at home with the forests and swamp than any city could offer her. Perhaps Bishop wasn't too far off when he called her feral, she probably was. In his own twisted way, sometimes he was the only one that understood. Even Elanee was too at odds with Calli most of the time. Sure, Bishop was ruthless, heartless and seriously lacking in any sense of morals, but he understood her pent up frustration and desire to be rid of it all.

 

“Well,” a deep, familiar voice drawled behind her, “Aren't you quite the little heartbreaker tonight, Feral?”

 

Calli's fingers tightened ever so slightly against the stone wall she'd been leaning over. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her irritation, she continued to stare out over the farms beneath her where she stood on the battlements, barely illuminated in the moonlight.

 

When she didn't grace him with a response, he leant his back on the ledge beside her, casting her a sidelong glance with arms crossed over his chest and yellow eyes narrowed. He wasn't wearing his armour, she noted with the briefest of looks, perhaps he'd tried to get with one of the tavern girls judging by the way his shirt was unlaced just low enough. Honestly she wouldn't put it past him, for all the time he spent throwing backhanded flirts at her she never once suspected he didn't look at other women as well.

 

“What do you want, Bishop?” she replied eventually, her voice strained and tired.

 

“I thought I wanted to see our dear paladin have his heart ripped out of his chest.” He shrugged. “It wasn't actually as satisfying as I thought it would be, self righteous oaf didn't even cry.”

 

Calli rolled her deep green eyes, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Poor you.”

 

He almost looked amused for a split second, but it faded so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it when the familiar sneer tugged at his features. “Shouldn't you be inside getting bored to death by Kana, Feral? I think your allocated ten minutes of break is up for today.”

 

“She'll manage by herself.” Calli grimaced a little thinking of the other woman. “If I have to listen to her going over our defence plans for the fourth time this evening I will kill her.”

 

He chuckled a little but it was a dangerous, threatening noise when it came from his lips. “Tsk, what would Nasher say if he heard his Knight Captain saying that?”  
  


“Fuck Nasher and Neverwinter,” she growled, “I need to get out of here, just for tonight, the keep will hold until the morning.”

 

“If you really want a way out I might be persuaded to show you one.” It came casually, the same way he phrased one of his exceedingly rare compliments – just offhanded enough to make anyone doubt whether he really genuinely meant it or not.

 

She glanced at him, searching his face for the usual look of contempt that painted his features but in that moment, under the stars, he was unreadable but for the gentle furrowing of his brows as if he was appraising her, judging her intent.

 

“Was that really an offer, or are you just making more snide remarks?”

 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, Feral,” he offered almost evasively, as if he was dodging the question, or dodging committing to anything that vaguely resembled human emotions.

 

For a moment she hesitated, chewed on her lip and then threw caution to the wind as she blurted, “Get me out of here, Bishop.” A pause as he arched an eyebrow at her, expectant, so she sighed and added pointedly, “Please?”  
  


He didn't respond, only grabbed her hand in his own, his skin warm against hers and she could feel every scar and callous, acutely aware of how rough he was against her, not that hers was any better from her years of wandering the Mere alone – she didn't have the soft skin and feminine body of someone who'd spent years living in luxury like other girls did. She was stained with old scars and pockmarked, her short stature slender but muscular and her dark hair perpetually in messy tangles.

 

“Might want to pull your hood up, Feral, your soldiers might not question me slipping out the gates this late at night but they'll have a fit if they see their precious leader leaving.”

 

She obeyed wordlessly, covering her features under the thick cloth of her cloak as Bishop led her through corridors and eventually slipped silently out of the keep. No one stopped and questioned them, although some of the passages they went through were suspiciously lacking in any patrols, she supposed she'd have to mention that to Kana. Then, when they were far enough away from the keep and at the edge of the forest and wildlands nearby, Calli dropped her hood and Bishop's hand, letting out a deep sigh.

 

“God's,” she breathed, relishing the fresh air filling her lungs, so exquisitely different from the stuffy musty air in the keep. “I knew I kept you around for something, Bishop.” She glanced at him, giving him a genuine smile although he didn't seem to care. “Thank you.”

 

He didn't reply, simply studying her silently but she didn't have time for his brooding and caustic remarks, not when she so rarely had time to herself as it was. With a small flicker of magic she shifted to another familiar form, her body changing into that of a lithe sleek fox. She dashed through the undergrowth, gorging on the feel of the wind in her hair, her closeness to nature, the ability to finally properly stretch her legs after weeks cooped up in the war room. What Bishop was left doing didn't concern her in that moment, she only ran until she found a small lake deep in the woods.

 

Shifting back to her normal form she grinned, shrugging out of her clothes and diving into the water. For a long minute she simply floated in the lake, staring up into canopy of the forest and the moonlight streaking through the leaves. Finally she started rubbing at the dirt and dust on her skin and in her hair, easing out the tangles in her dark brown locks, the smudges against her tanned skin.

 

Still, she wasn't distracted enough to miss the cracking of twigs and leaves and she glanced over her shoulder, quickly finding the ranger at the edge of the bank, staring at her with an arched brow and soft smirk on his features. She sunk deep enough into the water until it came up to her neck, glaring at him for the way he'd clearly been staring at her body. It embarrassed her, she didn't want him seeing what she saw as her ugly and marred form.

 

“Do you have any manners?” she huffed.

 

“Am I getting a lecture on politeness from our little wild child? How precious, I didn't think you knew what manners were,” he mocked, his lips pulling into a crude grin before his fingers slipped to his boots and started pulling them off.

 

“What are you doing?” She hated the way her eyes widened ever so slightly when he shrugged out of his shirt.

 

“Undressing, Feral,” he replied. “Tell me, did you ever see a man naked in all your years spent running with the wolves?”

 

“If I hadn't then I don't see how that would change now, given I'm only staring at another a beast.”

 

“Oh, _scathing_ ,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes, “I don't know how I'll ever recover.”

 

With a quick gesture he threw aside the rest of his clothes, his pants hitting the floor and she glanced away quickly while he crossed the distance to the lake and dived in. Pressing herself up against the bank, she folded her arms over her chest and furrowed her brow as he surfaced and found her gaze. Those yellow eyes looked hungry as he waded towards her, his hands pressing into the bank on either side of her, face inches from hers and she knew what was coming long before his lips hit hers. It was a needy, rough kiss, just like the other two times he'd done it, and she wondered if it was always like this because she had nothing to compare it to.

 

But Bishop – she could feel the lust pouring off him, the way he ran his tongue over her lips, kissed her with so much heat and passion that she felt heady in the moment. Instinct took over, her arms curling around his neck, running over the thick corded muscle in his shoulders while he pulled her against him, his body warm against her naked skin despite the cold water around them.

 

What was she doing? She should be appalled with herself, he couldn't have good intentions and she didn't even know if she trusted him not to shank her with his dagger the first chance he got. But the way his fingers were running over her skin, his head tilting and tongue looking for hers, she couldn't help it. No one had ever shown interest in her before, not like this, even Casavir, who proclaimed to love her, didn't stare at her with the kind of hunger in his eyes that Bishop did. His strong hands reached for her waist, lifted her slight form with ease and pressed her against the river bank while his lips left hers, trailed kisses down her neck and chest.

 

He spread her legs, pausing at her hips to glance up at her, his expression thick with desire but otherwise a mystery to her. Did he care for her? She doubted it, he didn't care for anyone. But it surprised her that he stared at her with such a needy look on his features, he'd made so many crude passes at her for months but she'd never taken it seriously, how could she when they were always laced with sarcasm and so often quickly followed by insults?

 

“You've never been with a man before, have you?” he asked quietly, and she couldn't miss the slight predatory tone to his voice, the way his greed fed off the idea that she was still a virgin.

 

“They're sorely lacking in the wilderness I find.”

 

“Only because you never ran into me.”

 

He leant down, ran his tongue over her slit, already wet from desire while his hands gently pressed against her legs to stop them bucking from inexperience. He parted her folds, slipped into her and drew heady moans from her throat, his fingers soon reaching where his mouth couldn't – one, two, easing into her slowly while she bit back the initial pain before the pleasure flooded through her. And he was... gentle. More gentle than she thought he might have been, coaxing her to climax with obvious skill yet taking it slow because he had to know this was almost overwhelming for her.

 

Was she seeing a different side to him? She wasn't certain, far more suspected that it was just another act on his behalf, a practised facade to get what he wanted from a woman, but she didn't really care in that moment when her fingers curled into his short auburn hair and desperate moans spilled from her lips. Writhing on the ground she cried out when waves of pleasure rolled over her, just barely noticing him slip his fingers into his mouth and lick away the wetness she'd left on him.

 

Then, before she'd even really recovered, his mouth was on hers again, a hand curling into hers while he braced himself on one arm. It was quick and it hurt when he entered her, her face twisting for a brief moment in pain but he stilled, waited for her discomfort to pass before he started thrusting into her. Fleeting kisses placed on her lips between gasps for air and moans, his movements quick and perhaps even erratic, as if he wanted to take his time but couldn't. Her fingers dug into his back, short nails leaving angry red marks to match the noises spilling from her lips.

 

When she came again she tensed, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and eyes squeezed shut as she cried out, softly. She barely noticed him jerk above her, the curse he spat and the feeling of his release inside her. After, he placed a few feather light kisses to her collarbone and chest, lips running over her sweaty skin and breathing in deep her scent before he pulled away from her.

 

For far too long he laid beside her on the bank, staring into her eyes with an unreadable expression on his features while she gazed back at him, her fingers running pointless circles over his chest. And then, abruptly, he stood up and was walking away. She sat up, concerned, her arms curling protectively around herself as if it might hide her nudity after what they'd just done. A soft whisper of his name made him stop for a moment while he shrugged into his clothes, but he refused to glance back at her.

 

“I'm not that kind of man, Calli,” he murmured, the tone in his voice neither snide nor kind, simply... indifferent. “If you want someone to hold you into the night, go find the paladin.” He paused for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to turn back to her but he didn't, only adding in barely more than a whisper, “Promise me one thing though. Stay up on the ramparts tomorrow.”

 

And with that, he was gone. She stared blankly into the ground for what felt like an hour, her thoughts mixed between longing, irritation and confusion, until her animal companion padded up beside her, presumably tracking her scent from where she was constantly forced to leave the bear in the farmlands beside the keep.

 

With her wet nose pressed to her shoulder, Calli closed her arms around her warm and furry body, refusing to let tears well in her eyes. It was a strange feeling that flooded through her then, not quite sorrow but rather a new-found determination that she never was meant for civilisation or human relationships and she'd been a fool to think she might ever fit in with other people.

 

She made her resolution then, that she'd never return to Crossroad Keep or Neverwinter after the war was done. Her home was in the forests and the swamp, and she'd disappear back into them as soon as her duty was done.

 

When Bishop betrayed them the next day she only stared at him, not quite surprised but still hurt. She wondered, how had she let herself get so tangled up with the ranger when she'd spent her whole life scorning the company of others and alone?

 


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he saw her, he almost wondered if his drinking was getting a little too out of hand. Even without the circus that followed her into the Sunken Flagon, the bear at her heels and her wild ragged appearance made her stand out like a sore thumb. She looked as if she'd never be in a city before, like a panicked deer, overwhelmed with everything around her. He didn't pay her much attention after that, barely casting her a sidelong glance every few days when she trudged back into the inn with a new idiot at her side.

 

The first time he spoke to her was months later, his breath only the slightest bit rushed after the githyanki attack and her companions arguing pointlessly around them about how they should rescue the farm girl. She ignored them, her arms crossed over her chest and dark brows furrowed as Duncan ranted and paced the room.

 

“You'd best hurry if you want to get that farm girl back,” Bishop had drawled, his voice taunting and for the first time, she looked at him, her green eyes narrowed, calculating. “This one's got a sprig of duskwood in his boot-”

 

“Which means they came from near Luskan,” she'd finished, and it irritated him that she'd stolen his thunder.

 

Duncan tried to blackmail him into helping her then, but she'd scoffed and told the old fool she didn't need his help, that she'd just as easily track the githyanki herself without that sour ranger at her side. Perhaps it was part his pride that made him join her then, if not for Duncan insisting she'd need the help, a large part of him wanted to show her up. He realised very quickly that she was good at tracking, perhaps not quite as much as him but more than enough to find the farm girl on her own. Still, Duncan made him promise to help in the rescue, so he trudged along with her and her motley crew up and into Luskan territory, sulking most of the way.

 

The first time she surprised him was after they were ambushed in Ember. He didn't know quite what he'd expected of her, but it certainly wasn't the way she yelled at Alaine for surrendering to the gith. The girl shouted about how West Harbour had been attacked as well, and what in the hells would have happened if they'd just laid down before the gith and not fought back the way the people of Ember had. Perhaps she wasn't as bad as he initially assumed. If anything, it was amusing enough the way the paladin stuttered over his words, torn between horror over her callousness and the obvious desire to get into her pants. As if their freak show couldn't get more ridiculous what with a paladin falling in love with a druid.

 

Then, after rescuing Shandra and beginning their return to Neverwinter, was the first time he started teasing their leader. Before he'd been content to glower at all of them, spew sarcastic remarks and insults in equal amounts, but when she snapped at him for making a pass at the farm girl, part of him latched onto seeing that fiery little personality again. So, he tracked Calli out of camp one night, he'd realised days ago she'd disappear into the wilderness every evening, and this time he followed her and found her sitting at the edge of a cliff overlooking the steep descent they'd need to make the next morning.

 

“What do you want, Bishop?” she asked before he'd even reached her, her bear no where to be seen.

 

“Does a man need a reason to want to spend time with their charming leader?” He sat down beside her, braced his arms on his knees and cast her a little smirk, only earning him a scowl in return.

 

“Quit the mockery.”

 

“Mockery? Would I do that to you?”

 

“If I wanted someone to pretend that he actually enjoys my company, I'd go find Casavir.”

 

He laughed, a deep rumbling noise that was more predatory and threatening than anything else. “Ouch, Feral, have you never had a friend in your life?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

He considered for a moment, studying her.“I think you've spent so many years alone... that you don't know what to do with yourself now you've got these fools following you around who actually seem to like you.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him but he still caught the faint smile that pulled at her lips. Hell, she might not be as trigger happy or malicious as he was, but in that moment he saw clear as day that she was just as antisocial and maladjusted in society as him. “It's easier in the wilderness,” she murmured, “animals don't care for good and evil or cities and rules.”

 

“Ahh,” he drawled, his lips curled into a smirk. “Don't let the paladin hear you say that, you might break his poor little heart.”

 

She scoffed. “As if I care what that self righteous oaf thinks when he's too busy painting everything in black and white.”

 

“Oh, but we still need him for now, don't we?” he replied, his voice laced with too much sarcasm to ever suggest he thought Casavir was more than a useful meatshield. “If anything, might as well use him to warm your bedroll in the evenings, not that I think he'd do it when he's so pent up on being chivalrous.”

 

She baulked a little at the suggestion. “Is this the part where you offer to take his place?”

 

He glanced at her, an eyebrow raised in interest and raked his eyes over her features, the messy tangled hair and wild eyes. He supposed she could have been pretty in another life but whatever beauty she might have been born with had been ripped away over decades spent deep in the swamp.

 

“Believe me, Feral, if I wanted to fuck you we'd have done it by now.”

 

He stood abruptly, casting her a crude grin for the way she scowled at him, her cheeks flushing bright red. Perhaps she wasn't that bad, certainly not like the pretty tavern wenches he usually fucked but her personality, at least, excited him. He'd never met someone so much like him before, maybe he would try and goad her into bed with him, not that he thought it'd work but he realised very quickly how funny it was to see both her and the paladin's scathing reactions every time he leered at her or cast her a crass comment.

 

o0o

 

It was by chance that he saw Calli leaving the city with her knight sponsor. He'd been slinking through the streets from a brothel and back to the flagon when he found them, and he would have let them go on their merry way, too, had he not noticed the other shadows following them. Those figures were all too familiar to Bishop. Daring that Luskan would risk sending assassin's into Neverwinter herself to find the girl, but perhaps they'd only been biding their time for a moment to catch her unawares. And given Calli was leaving the city now with that idiot of a knight beside her, they'd probably have that opportunity sooner rather than later.

 

So, Bishop followed them, stalked the assassin's stalking the girl until they arrived at a little glade outside the city. There, he saw the Luskans disappear for a while, perhaps readying themselves for an attack, so he waited until the knight left and then crept up on Calli. She'd just called her bear to her, whispering something in the beast's ear and rummaging in her pack when he spoke and announced himself. She didn't jump, only turned around with a frown on her face as she realised who was behind her.

 

“Shouldn't you be meditating or something, Feral?”

 

“Shouldn't you be a tavern somewhere getting drunk or getting into some girls pants?” she offered back.

 

“I ran all out of tavern girls,” he replied with a little shrug. “Maybe I'll have to settle for a swamp wench instead.”

 

Her lips parted ever so slightly but she shut her mouth moments later when a furious blush stole over her features. A small chuckle rumbled in his throat at her reaction, the more he teased and flirted with her the more he was starting to realise she really had no idea what to do with herself when a man gave her attention. To be fair, it wasn't all that surprising given he highly suspected no one had ever shown interest in her before. Still, it amused him the way his comments would fluster her.

 

“What are you doing here anyway?”

 

“I saw some men following you out of the city, men that looked like assassins.” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “I'd say your friends aren't going to play fair.”

 

A frown played over her features. “You know a lot about Luskan assassins, do you?”

 

He cast her a brief sneer, then rolled his eyes. “You're going have to do more than bat your eyelashes to get that kind of information out of me, Feral.”

 

Her lips parted to reply but the sound of footsteps interrupted her. His bow was in his hands in seconds, fingers curling around an arrow and she clicked her tongue, drew her bears attention who snarled, teeth bared for attack.

 

“Hope you're ready to earn your freedom,” Bishop muttered and the Luskans taunted them for a bit, empty hollow threats that did little but stall for time until they finally attacked.

 

Vines erupted from the ground, Calli's hands twisting a spell as her bear lunged on one of the men, teeth mauling into flesh. Two of their assailants got caught up in the roots around their feet, easy prey for the arrows that Bishop pelted them with when his targets couldn't move. They were skilled, though, he hadn't expected any less and with an angry little growl he found himself clashing blades with their leader, the last one left. He blocked most of the attacks, his bow cast aside but a knife fight wasn't his forte so he missed one of the lunges his attacker made.

 

Sharp steel cut through leathers at his shoulder, dug into flesh but then... stopped abruptly. Both men glanced down at the wound in surprise, finding Bishop's skin and armour turned to stone, the full force of the attack halted. The assassin snarled, yanked away his blade but his distraction was momentary enough for Calli's bear to smash into him. He staggered, the ranger quickly picking up his bow and piercing an arrow into the other man's shoulder. Her bear, though, held back, teeth still bared and he wondered why the beast wasn't attacking for a split second before he heard the rumbling thunder and saw the way the skies were darkening.

 

With a glance towards the druid he saw her hands sparking with electricity, eyes flashing with power and then, with a loud crack, she called forth a bolt of lightning that struck down on the last assassin with ruthless precision. Bishop almost felt bad for the poor sod, getting incinerated by lightning didn't seem like a good way to go. At least it was quick, he supposed, probably more than the git deserved.

 

“Are you alright?” Calli asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

 

“What, this?” He glanced down at his shoulder, it hurt but her spell had left him with only a small cut to his skin rather than the nasty wound it could have been. “Feral, if you wanted me take off my armour you should have let his sword go a bit deeper. I've hurt myself worse in bed.”

 

“I didn't mean-” she started, her features flushing again and voice breaking before she muttered, annoyed, “Ass.”

 

Another, louder, rumble of thunder tore through the sky and she frowned, glancing up at the dark clouds above them. Then, the rain started, thick heavy drops drenching them in moments like a sheet of water. Bishop cursed, cast her an angry look while he drawled, “Did you really have to make it rain, too?”

 

“I didn't mean to,” she protested, her messy dark hair plastered to her face and the back of her neck. “I don't use that spell very often.”

 

“Oh, I can tell.” He rolled his eyes, pushing back some of the longer locks of his hair that had fallen into his face with the weight of the water soaking him. “Unfortunately for you, you have to wait out the rest of your vigil here, whereas I-”

 

His voice faltered abruptly, his vision blurring a little and before he really knew what was happening he was kneeling, one hand braced on the ground and teeth gritted for what he now realised was poison ripping through his body. Figures, he should have expected it given it was exactly what he would have done himself.

 

“Bishop?” she started, crouching down before him. “Are you alright?”

 

“What in the hells do you think, girl?” he snapped, a burning a pain spreading through his skin and muscles where the sword had cut him.

 

“Take your armour off.”  
  


“I'm flattered, but this isn't really the time-”

 

“Oh, just do it, you idiot,” she interrupted, the irritation clear in her voice.

 

Grumpily he obeyed, helping her rid him of his leather chestpiece and tugging his undershirt over his head soon after. With his wound exposed he realised now how much he'd underestimated it, through the rain still pelting down on him he saw the messy cut in his shoulder, the flesh already turning black at the edges from the poison the assassin had used. Abruptly, she placed her hand against the cut, drawing an angry grunt from Bishop's lips but she ignored him as a spell started curling around her fingers. From his wound she drew out the poison, soothing magic pouring into his flesh and wiping away the pain. She was done in minutes, her hand still lightly resting on his healed skin while the rain still poured down on them, soaking them to their core.

 

“You're staring, girl,” he started and her eyes snapped up to him, wide and dilated with that familiar flush rising up her cheeks. “Keep doing that and I might have to do something about it.”

 

Like a startled deer she pulled away from him, jumping to her feet and curling her arms around herself. He chuckled at the frown on her features and they way she refused to look at him. Perhaps he'd keep flirting for her, if not for the way it irritated Casavir, her kneejerk reaction when he made passes at her was amusing. And perhaps, just the slightest bit, a challenge.

 

o0o

 

It wasn't that he was concerned for her safety exactly, except, well, maybe he was. But only a little bit. Besides, the idea of listening to Duncan wailing for weeks over his butchered little antisocial niece didn't appeal to Bishop. And then there was the matter of the debt, was it null and void if the girl got her body smashed to pieces by that Luskan brute, or would Duncan claim it back considering he was expected to serve her idiotic crusade now and if she died prematurely he clearly couldn't fulfil that any longer?

 

Perhaps it was all of those tangled emotions that made him visit her that night in the temple, offer some tactics about how she might avoid getting her head lopped off and told her, however dismissive and scathing, that he'd appreciate it if she pulled her ass out of this one because he didn't want to have to put up with Duncan's moping if she died. And she seemed... thankful, genuinely so, gave him a small, perhaps ironic smile, as if she saw through the insults and realised however much he tried to hide it that a small part of him was concerned for her safety, not that she said anything about it regardless.

 

She'd asked him what he planned to do for the night, commented that she'd recommend he didn't return to the Flagon if he didn't want to hear Duncan bawling his eyes out over a keg of ale because of her supposed impending doom. He'd made some offhanded remark that he'd find another inn, probably get piss drunk and wind up fucking one of the wenches because he might as well make the most of the time they were in Neverwinter, which seemed increasingly rare with every damned quest she dragged him on these days. That had only earned him a furrow in her brow, her gaze tearing from his and her next words curt when she thanked him for his advice and told him he ought to leave.

 

He didn't think much of it at the time, but he didn't end up in bed with anyone that night, but only because his stomach was churning too much considering what his debt and future would turn into tomorrow after the fight. At least that's what he told himself. And somehow, god's only knew how, she survived and beat Lorne, cut the brute's head from his shoulders and then, as if nothing had happened, she was dumped back in the Flagon with half her companions fawning over her.

 

Bishop watched the scene unfold with his back pressed to a wall, yellow eyes narrowed gently as Duncan fussed over Calli, Casavir spouted some nonsense and Shandra drew her into a hug. Their leader looked more than a little bit overwhelmed, clearly not used to such attention or contact, her body rigid and stiff but no one really seemed to notice. She even loosened up after a few minutes, smiling at her companions and being surprisingly friendly, although insisting that everyone stop trying to hug her. For a long moment Bishop only watched them, knowing full well he wasn't exactly welcome in their little celebration.

 

Then, when the paladin knelt before her and pressed a kiss to her hand, he sneered, a little flicker of anger burning in him and he told himself it was only because of the way that Calli stiffened and clearly seemed uncomfortable with Casavir's affections.

 

In truth, he didn't really want to think about why he did it, but Bishop was striding towards the little band of people within moments, some of their companions glancing up in surprise but parting for him as he walked over. The paladin stood up and scowled, earning only a smirk from him in response and Calli looked up at him, frowned and parted her lips but Bishop didn't give her a chance to say anything.

 

“Come here,” he growled, taking her chin almost roughly in his hand and pushing a kiss to her lips.

 

She gave a small gasp, her body going rigid and her lips unmoving underneath him but then, after a few moments, she melted against him. Arms curled around his neck, her body pressing against his as he wrapped one arm around her waist and tilted her head with his other hand. He could tell she'd never been kissed before, simply from the way she trembled a little when he ran his tongue over her lips, tried to deepen the kiss and god's he would have if a hand hadn't grabbed roughly at his shirt. A strong grip jerked him away, tore him from her and slammed him face first into the wall, a small groan spilling from his throat from the impact.

 

“Keep your filthy hands off her, ranger,” a voice growled, sounding suspiciously self righteous like Casavir.

 

“Ah, don't go defending her honour. I'm sure she can do that herself, paladin,” Bishop spat in reply, biting back a grunt from the way the other man grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. “Someone might as well give it to her, considering you couldn't find your way to her lips even if someone gave you a fucking map.”

 

“Stop it, both of you,” Calli interrupted, her voice strained and tired and there was a long moment's hesitation before the paladin let him go. Flexing his shoulders Bishop turned around, grinning a little at the flushed and flustered look on their little druids face and the way she kept glancing away from him.

 

“Maybe next time I'll show you were her cunt is,” Bishop taunted, leering at her a moment before casting a smirk towards the paladin. “God's only know that you'd never find it by yourself.”

 

He saw the little flick of her wrist and burst of magic, but it was too late before he could do anything about it. Vines grew out of nowhere, wrapped around his mouth and gagged him, earning her an irritated glower in return. She only shrugged, whispered something about how she'd remove them when he stopped being an ass and he swore he'd kill every damn one of them for laughing at him in that moment.

 

o0o

 

“Ranger!”   
  


Her voice was like the crack of a whip, what he wouldn't give to knife Kana if he could get away with yet. Trying not to flinch, he glanced up at the woman from where he'd been sitting in the tavern.

 

“So, what does the great captain need tracked down now?” he drawled. “Some forsaken path scouted? As if she couldn't do it herself, but of course that's beneath her now, isn't it?”

 

The sound of her teeth grinding was almost loud enough to cover the din in the tavern. Slowly, pointedly, Kana said, “Actually, it's the captain herself who needs tracking.”

 

“Why, did you lose her?” Bishop's lips curled into a smile, taking a swig of his ale. “Did she finally have enough of your whining and quit the field?”

 

She slammed a fist down on the table, wrenched away his ale and threw it away, clearing not concerned for the smashing glass. “Find. Her.”

 

Glowering up at her with lips curled he held her gaze for several minutes, daring her to make him do it, to try and command him. Then, with a roll of his eyes he stood up, stalked towards the door but not before seething over his shoulder, “Be careful what orders you throw around, woman, or you might just find a dagger between your ribs.”

 

He obliged, though, tracked their captain with ease, and either way he already had half a mind to where she'd gone. That she'd brave going so far away surprised even him, but perhaps no one had really noticed because she hardly spent any of her time at the keep these days anyway with all the war preparations they were doing that took them far and wide through the lands. He found her by the ruins of her Shandra's old house, simply sitting on the ground cross legged with her bear beside her. Smart girl to at least bring the beast with her for protection.

 

“Deserting in the middle of a war are we, Feral? I didn't think you had it in you.” He leant against a nearby tree, studying her with softly narrowed eyes but she didn't meet his gaze.

 

“It's not desertion if I go back.”

 

He raised a single eyebrow at her. “And are you going back?”

 

Glancing up at him, her features sullen but free from tears she muttered, “If I say no are you going to drag me?”

 

“Depends how much you pay me not to.”

 

She frowned. “I'm already paying you.”

 

“In coin, perhaps,” he started, letting his eyes trail down her chest with a little smirk, “But a man needs more than gold to get through his day.”

 

She rolled her eyes but he caught the faint smile that played across her features no matter how fleeting it was. Pushing herself up onto her feet she stretched for a moment, her fingers linking together above her head. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose, trying to draw his attention to her body like that but coming from her he doubted it, it was only recently that she'd reliably started retorting to his lewd comments. For several months she'd simply gaped at him before blushing furiously and that was only when she actually caught on to his meaning in the first place.

 

“I'm certain you can do better in the keep,” she muttered almost bitterly.

 

“Ahh, don't sell yourself short, Feral,” he teased, falling into an easy step beside her as they found the path back towards Highcliffe, “For all you know all I ever wanted in life might be a good swamp wench warming my bed.”

 

She shoved him playfully but didn't reply to his goading. A pity, he'd just started to enjoy himself, but they spent the rest of their journey in more or less silence as they ducked through the lands, dodging enemies before eventually finding themselves back in the farmlands surrounding the keep. Her bear quickly disappeared into the fields, forbidden from entering the stronghold. They were in the archway of the keep when the split second decision stole over him. There, in the shadows by the gate where none of her Greycloaks could see her, he grabbed her around the waist.

 

She gasped softly while he pressed her swiftly into the cold stone wall, his forearm braced beside her head and wolfish eyes boring into her own, inches from her face. Up this close he could see each rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips parted and her pupils dilated, and he quickly sealed the distance between them. It was a hot, heavy kiss, more teeth and biting than affection and he moaned against her lips, ran his fingers over the curve of her body and wished her armour wasn't separating them.

 

But then, as if fate hated him, the sound of scurrying feet and Kana shouting drifted over to them. Calli panicked, broke their kiss and slipped out of his arms, her body rigid while she cast a look around to try and find out if anyone had seen them.

 

“Calli,” he started as Kana's voice grew louder, she'd be here in moments. “Come with me. Fuck the rest of them, you don't owe them anything.”

 

She glanced back at him, her features plainly telling him how much she wanted to but then, when Kana finally reached them, she turned away and went back to it all. Bishop spat a curse, frustration brimming inside him to the point where he threw a punch into the wall, regretting it instantly when the blood started dripping from his knuckles.

 

Her reaction disappointed him, he'd thought she'd seen the bigger picture and say yes. He knew she hated it here just as much as he did, and if she'd left... maybe he wouldn't have been pushed to do what he did. But if he couldn't escape with her, then he would get out by himself instead. Unfortunate, then, that it'd mean stabbing her in the back – but he wouldn't give up his freedom for anyone, even her, even if the thought of leaving her disappointed him just the slightest. He'd miss teasing her, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he said something lewd and the way her lips felt under his.

 

But he could find someone else to warm his bed. Pity, though, it would have been so much easier if she'd run away with him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Her companions had taken a moment to rest after killing the shadowreavers, to tend to their wounds and recuperate so Calli took the moment to slip away. Not to leave, but simply scout ahead, peer around the corners and have a moment to herself before she killed someone between the constant bickering from everyone else. She'd have thought they'd shut up for once given where they were, but clearly that wasn't to be the case. And if she had to suffer another tirade from Casavir about how he was going to cut off Bishop's head, she would scream, not for concern over the ranger, rather that it was grating on her nerves how the paladin was permanently on repeat barking the same threats.

 

Ironic then that she was so on edge that she missed the slip in the shadows behind her until it was too late. A hand curled around her mouth, and she almost expected a knife to follow at her throat, but it never did. Soft words whispered in her ear, told her to be quiet and she obeyed as she was pushed into a small alcove just off the path that her companions and her had been walking. Her assailant pushed her away then and she turned, a frown pulling at her features at who her eyes landed on but in truth she wasn't really surprised.

 

“Bishop?” she asked softly, but the question was clearly rhetorical. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Giving you one last chance to run away from all this, Feral,” he answered, the poor lighting casting shadows over his features. He looked tired, then again she probably looked no better.

 

She sighed, deep and frustrated then ran a hand through her hair. “I wish I could.”

 

“Then why don't you?” An angry look took over him, as if she'd stabbed him in the back. “Or do you really have your head as far up Nasher's ass as everyone else seems to think you do?”

 

“God's, no.” She scowled a little at his suggestion. “Do you really think he'd let me go without chasing me down? Hells, that Garius or the King of Shadows wouldn't find me and kill me?” Pressing her palm into her forehead she added, tired, “I wish I never left the Mere in the first place.”

 

He didn't reply, and she almost thought for a moment that he'd disappeared on her again but when she looked up he was still there, staring at her with his features unreadable. Softly, almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked the words that had been plaguing her since he'd left. “Why did you do it?”

 

For a long moment he was silent before replying, his voice far quieter than she was used to. “The same reason why you're almost about to start crying, Feral. Only when fate shits on me, I don't stand by and let it play me for a fool.”

 

She even laughed a little then, but it was a hollow noise in her throat given the circumstances. Then, plucking up what remained of her courage she asked quietly, “Would you tell me what happened to you, Bishop?”

 

She saw him hesitate, his brow knit together and eyes narrow into small slits and she almost resigned herself to never knowing the truth before he starting telling her, bitterly, what Duncan had done to him. She listened silently, heard how Duncan had held his debt over his head and wondered what special kind of an idiot her uncle had been to try and tame someone as angry and wild as Bishop.

 

“You could have just left, you know,” she replied once he'd finished speaking. “I wouldn't have stopped you, you don't owe me anything.”

 

He let out a small, bitter laugh. “That's a nice sentiment, but Duncan made his intentions perfectly clear. I don't think he'd have been too impressed with me if I had abandoned his precious little niece.”

 

“Then why don't you leave now?” she suggested, a brief look of confusion dancing over his face. “No one would expect you to walk out of here alive after what you did, so run, disappear – I'll tell them I killed you.”

 

“Why would you do that for me?” he asked very slowly, cautiously, like an scared animal unsure if it should trust or not.

 

“You said it yourself, I understand exactly how you feel. But unlike you, I don't have a choice.”

 

If he seemed unsure if he could trust her she wasn't surprised, she doubted he had ever trusted anyone in his life before, so she added, with a small grin, “You know if you stay you're just going to die anyway, even if we fall to Garius, do you trust me him to leave you alive?”

 

“No,” he answered and he pushed himself away from the wall, flexed his neck for a moment and moved to glance out of the alcove when a voice stopped him.

 

“Honestly, are you really thinking about turning on Garius now?” It came in a sneer, a high pitched, arrogant voice that was all too familiar.

 

They both turned in unison, Calli's eyes widening in astonishment at who was standing before them and Bishop scowling, his fingers already closed around his bow.

 

“Qara?” he growled. “Figures you'd jump ship the first chance you got, spoilt little brat that you are.”

 

“Qara?” Calli echoed, blinking a little dumbly at the girl, she definitely hadn't been wearing those black robes before. Honestly, had anyone even noticed her leave? Then again, Bishop was more than half right, no one would be surprised if they found out she turned on them.

 

“And figures you'd run with your tail between your legs the moment she batted her eyelashes at you again!” the sorceress spat.

 

“Shut it, witch.” With practised ease Bishop pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed his bow at her. “God's only know I've been looking for an excuse to put one through your heart since the first time I heard you open your arrogant little mouth in the Flagon.”

 

The arrow let loose, flying with deadly accuracy at Qara but burnt into ashes at the last moment as the sorceress summoned a jet of flames around her, the air in the small alcove suddenly unbearably hot under her power.

 

“Did you think Garius would only give me empty promises?!” Qara shrieked, her eyes dancing in the flames around her. “He showed me power like none of you could ever imagine!”

 

Her hands twisted before her, pulled a fireball between her fingers that she sent flying forwards and it took all of Calli's power to throw a quick, messy spell up before her to block the flames. Still the heat seared the tips of her hair, made her throat burn and her lungs feel like they were set on fire, and Bishop... Panicked, she cast her gaze around the room, her eyes watering in the heat still spewing forth around Qara's body until Calli's eyes landed on the ranger and found the way he was crouching on the floor, his eyes wide and his leather chest piece singed to pieces. Perhaps she'd just caught him in the embrace of her barrier to spare him the full force of Qara's inferno, but she hadn't stopped the initial fireball slamming into his chest, melting away armour and skin and filling the room with the putrid, pungent smell of burning flesh.

 

She screamed, dashed towards him even as Qara's fingers twisted around another spell. This time she blocked it completely, conjuring a thick stone wall out of the nothing that soaked up the flames while her hands poured forth healing magic into Bishop's chest. She doubted she'd be able to help much, she didn't have the kind of healing power the githzerai did, but maybe she could stop him from straight up dying if nothing else. Everything she had she let flow into him, knitting together melted flesh and sparing organs and from somewhere behind the stone barricade she heard the sound of yells and weapons slicing through the air – her companions, she presumed, they'd probably heard the fighting.

 

Then, quite suddenly, the heat in the room evaporated and she heard Khelgar and Casavir calling her name through the small cracks in the stone wall. Still she held it for a few minutes longer, her eyes focused on Bishop before she'd let the barrier fall because she hadn't wasted so much on him just to let the others kill him now.

 

With an angry curse mumbled from his lips, the ranger pushed himself to his feet, unsteady and clutching at the walls but she had nothing else left to give him.

 

“Tell me you know a way out of here,” Calli whispered, although she needn't have bothered over the sound of Khelgar's hammer smashing into her stone wall.

 

“Of course I do,” Bishop replied, his voice still murderous even as he groaned in pain.

 

“Then go, please,” she urged, holding his gaze for one last moment. If she didn't know better in that moment, she'd have thought he wanted to tell her something, the way his yellow eyes trained on hers beneath a softly furrowed brow, but whatever words he'd had for her died when the sound of her stone wall crumbling filled the air.

 

Calli covered her eyes, coughing for a moment from the plume of dust that flooded through the alcove, and when she opened them the ranger was gone, only her concerned companions standing before her and Qara dead at their feet.

 

o0o

 

It was a miracle that any of them even made it out of that forsaken ruin to begin with, and even as her companions and her stood breathless and panting under the bright sunlight outside, Calli couldn't quite believe how none of them had died. The entrance to the ruins was collapsed before them, rubble strewn over the boggy ground, there hadn't been time to even consider they could use the same way out as they'd come in. They'd only had time to run, hoping they'd picked the right direction and mercifully they found an exit.

 

For a long moment Calli glanced back at her companions, considered what they'd been through and what they'd done for her, she actually realised she'd miss some of them in that moment. They were good people, and although most of them irritated her from time to time she owed them a lot, even Neeshka had fought Garius' powers to stay loyal to them in the end. Maybe in a different world Calli might have stayed around, joined them for drinks in a tavern and basked in the glory that would await them back in Neverwinter. But it wasn't for her.

 

Standing up she took one last look at them, found her gaze meeting with a few of theirs for a split second and then, with a small burst of practised magic, she shifted, her body transforming into a fox once more, and dashing through the undergrowth and into the swamp. Maybe they'd understand, she hoped they would, at least for them to know it wasn't personal.

 

Quickly she ran, or as fast as her tired legs could carry her given the battle she'd just fought, only stopping when a familiar sight opened up before her. Almost automatically she shifted back into her normal form again, her brow furrowing as she approached a wolf she was all too familiar with, her hand gently scratching the back of Karnwyr's neck while she clicked her tongue softly to tell him she wasn't a threat.

 

The wolf's master she found seconds later, strewn across the leaves and brambles before the beast, his chest barely moving and his eyes closed. She knelt down beside him, pressed a hand to Bishop's forehead for a moment before raking her eyes over his form.

 

He was badly injured, though he'd managed to escape the ruins, she presumed before they'd even collapsed. His chest and arms seemed more damaged than she'd initially realised, or maybe it'd been too dark in the room to really notice how much damage Qara had actually done. His skin was a mangled mess, his leathers and clothes almost entirely incinerated but for small pieces stuck into his flesh. She doubted he'd even have survived this long if not for what she'd done for him back in the ruins, and even then part of her wasn't certain he was going to hang on that much longer as it was.

 

For a moment she chewed on her lip, wondering if she should leave him or not, a large part of her doubted he'd want her to rescue him when the situation before her so closely mirrored that he'd been in with Duncan. Even if she didn't want to see any of her companions again, perhaps even Bishop included, even if she wanted only to return to her isolation that was so familiar, she didn't want him dead either.

 

With a soft little whistle she called for Koda, hoping her bear hadn't strayed too far away from when she told her to leave the keep and wait for her in the Mere before the undead horde attacked. Mercifully the animal came padding up to her within a few minutes, her wet nose pressed to Calli's cheek affectionately and the druid giving her a quick pat before turning back to the man before them.

 

Using the last remnants of her power, she tangled vines around his body as carefully as she could, creating a makeshift cocoon to swaddle his body and then harnessing it to Koda, the bears strength more than enough to slowly drag Bishop through the swamp, only snagging occasionally on the undergrowth. They headed for one of the villages Calli was familiar with, not West Harbour but one she hoped had been abandoned long before this war raged. Mercifully, she was right, the buildings still standing but entirely deserted from the threat of the undead. Picking one of the empty homes at random she entered it, Karnwyr at her heels, and managed to drag the unconscious ranger into one of the beds and then set about wondering if there was anything she could do for his injuries.

 

o0o

 

He was healing well enough, given everything that had happened and her less than perfect skills with restoration magic. He'd scar, of that she was certain, every time she changed the bandages on his torso she'd bite back the small gasp at the ugly mangled mess of skin that would be left on his chest. Not that he hadn't already had his fair share of burns and marks over his body, but this one was big and starkly obvious, the kind that people would openly stare at if they saw it. She might even have felt bad for him, if he wasn't being so determinedly rude towards her. He completely refused to speak to her and most of the time wouldn't even meet her gaze either, it was grating on her nerves not because it upset her but because living with an ungrateful mute was quite irritating.

 

That morning, she was about ready to snap as she came into the room and dumped a clean bucket of water and cloth on the floor. As normal, he looked away but allowed her to undo his bandages, his muscles ridged and body tense when her fingers moved across his skin.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, gathering the bandages in her hand and placing them aside. They no longer came away deeply stained with blood, his wounds were starting to close up though they were far from fully healed.

 

When he refused to answer her question, she hissed, angrily, “By the Nine fucking Hells, Bishop, would you say something?”

 

His yellow eyes locked onto hers, flashing darkly as his lips curled into a sneer yet still refused to say anything.

 

“Ungrateful piece of shit,” she muttered bitterly to herself and to her surprise he actually replied.

 

“What are you playing at, Feral?”

 

Surprised, she blinked at him, the confusion evident on her features even as he scowled at her, his face nearing on murderous. Eventually she asked, “What are you talking about?”

 

“You,” he stated simply though his voice was still laced with anger, “What fucking game is this? Why are you doing this?”

 

Her brow furrowing, she slipped her fingers away from his chest and gazed at him. “I don't understand what you mean-”

 

“You tell me to leave, give me my _freedom_ and then go and save my life,” he interrupted, his voice rising to match his growing fury, “Put me back into your debt – and for what, to gloat? So you can string me along at your feet again like Duncan did?”

 

For a long moment she simply stared in disbelief for what she considered completely idiotic reasoning on his behalf.

 

“Is _that_ what this is all about?” she said eventually. “You think I dragged your worthless hide away from that ruin because I wanted you to be obligated to me again? For fuck's sake,” a pause and she stood up, raking a hand through messy locks to match her frustration at the half brained logic that went through the ranger's head, “Didn't you listen to anything that I said? You don't owe me anything, Bishop, you can leave whenever you want. I had more than enough of your _obligations_ the first time to know I don't want it a second.”

 

Yellow eyes narrowed at her, calculating, judging until she added, irritably, “I'm not holding this over your head, I swear it, I don't want you in my debt.”

 

“Then why save me?” he asked almost too quietly, his eyes softening the slightest from their angry judging look to an almost curious, if hesitant one. “It's one thing to let me go after I betrayed you, but another entirely to spare me from the clutches of that pyromaniac. I don't exactly inspire loyalty the way the rest of your merry little band of idiots do.”

 

Defensively, she crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his gaze and wishing that the burning heat in her cheeks would abate but predictably it wouldn't. God's, he was reading her like a fucking book judging by the way recognition was slowly dawning on his features. She expected him to sneer at her, laugh in her face perhaps but he didn't, only rolled his eyes and sighed, looking more disappointed than amused.

 

“Fuck's sake, girl, did you really think I could love anyone, let alone you?” A look bordering on cruel stole over his features and his voice was scathing when he added, “Should have picked the paladin if you wanted more than a quick fuck.”

 

Tears stung at her eyes unwanted but she bit them back, glowering at him before dropping the bandages onto the bed and muttering, angrily, “You can clean your own damn wounds from now on.”

 

o0o

 

She didn't return to check up on him again after that incidence, figuring if he was going to be so callous towards her he could find his own food and nourishment. A day passed where she didn't see him at all, and then eventually in the afternoon he slipped out of his room, presumably too hungry to lounge around in bed alone any longer.

 

“Is that what passes for hospitality in West Harbour?” he drawled from behind her where she sat beside the fireplace, her bear curled at her side and Karnwyr's head resting in her lap. God's knew that wolf had more manners than Bishop himself, and the beast barely stirred at his master's presence in the room, too content in his slumber to do anything else.

 

She refused to acknowledge him, instead staring intently into the fire before her, eyes narrowed into furious slits as the flame cast shadows over her face.

 

“Don't take it personally, Feral, it can't have come as much of a surprise,” he added, swiping an apple from the table and sinking his teeth into it, not that she could see anything that he did.

 

“Ass,” she blurted out after a few moments.

 

“Inventive,” he drawled, leaning his back to the wall and speaking between mouthfuls. “Did you think that up all by yourself?”

 

Abruptly, and without really planning it, she hissed, “I want you out of here by tomorrow morning.”

 

He paused for a long moment, then muttered bitterly, “Fine. Karnwyr.” The wolf's head barely stirred until his master repeatedly more forcefully, “Filthy mutt, come here.” With slow, sleepy movements the wolf rose and padded over to Bishop, more obeying because he had to rather than from desire to please his master. “I should leave you behind if you're so content to have your face in her cunt.”

 

The wolf mewled ever so slightly, cocking his head and Calli couldn't help laughing, pity Bishop couldn't understand what his beast's words really meant the way she could.

  
“What?” he snapped.

 

“Fucking hypocrite.”

 

Maybe he didn't proclaim to care for her the way she, regrettably, did for him, but his beast understood explicitly that Bishop's thoughts were still consumed with lust towards her. It made his actions towards her bearable at least. She hadn't exactly expected proclamations of love from him, but it amused her that he still wanted to fuck her but didn't want to admit it, enough that she could forget the way he'd treated her before and gloat happily in her knowledge for the rest of the day.

 

o0o

 

Later that evening, while Bishop sucked on the bones of a roasted hare a little too enthusiastically, he again taunted her with his version of smalltalk, most of which tended to involve thinly veiled insults, often concerning their companions. He sat beside her at the table while she picked through the animal's carcass, trying to find some bones big enough that Karnwyr might be able to chew on without choking, but finding little success.

 

“So, what are your plans now your great destiny has been fulfilled, ladyship?” he taunted, she'd grown accustomed to him only ever using formal titles if he was mocking her, God's knew she hated the idea of nobility almost as much as he did. “A return to Crossroad Keep so you can lick Nasher's boot again? Listen to Kana fawning over your exploits?”

 

“Perhaps,” she replied with a little shrug, only humouring him because she knew her next words would irritate him to no end. “Maybe fuck Casavir while I'm there, not that I'd expect much but he might surprise me and be half decent in bed.”

 

Bishop actually choked a little on his mouthful of hare flesh. Yellow eyes incredulous, he stared at her for a long moment before they narrowed into a scowl and his features darkened so dramatically and quickly she wondered if she all his mood swings could be healthy.

 

“I'm sure you'd like that,” he muttered rather bitterly, “Someone to be there when you wake up in the morning, whisper hollow words in your ear and shout his god's name rather than yours when he comes.”

 

“Better than nothing,” she offered with a little shrug.

 

“Nothing?” He cocked his head at her. “Feral, if you wanted a dick in your cunt you only had to ask.”

 

“From you?” She gave a short, almost bitter chuckle. “I've already made that mistake once.”

 

Bishop sneered at her, the look all too familiar on his features, although in the past she'd never really taken it seriously, now she wondered if there wasn't more than mockery under the surface. “Oh, but you didn't seem to mind by the lake all those weeks ago.”

 

Calli pushed her plate away and stood up, walking towards the fire to stoke it as she replied with, “That was before I realised what an completely irredeemable piece of shit you are.”

 

From behind her she heard the sound of a chair screeching along wooden floorboards. “So you're going to go running into the arms of that idiot because you didn't have someone to hold you while you slept?”

 

“What's it matter to you who I fuck?” she snapped, turning around to glare at him a bit too hotly than she'd have liked. “As if you care what I do once you've already had me.”

 

Perhaps her words struck a cord with him, because his features turned murderous, the way she'd only ever seen them do once or twice before, only when speaking about Luskan or Duncan. Then, with a few short strides he crossed the distance between them, closed a hand quickly around her wrists and pinned her small hands above her head. Yellow eyes bored into her own, lips curled back from teeth but in his features she couldn't tell if they were painted with fury or desire. Perhaps both, she supposed, but she didn't have time to consider it before he was pressing his lips to hers in a crushing, almost possessive kiss. She gasped, startled at first by the action but then greedily returning it.

 

His free hand trailed down her thigh, dug into her clothes and pulled her slender leg up around his waist. Clearly he hadn't lost any of his strength from the injuries he'd sustained in the Mere, then again, she wasn't all that heavy herself with her short stature, he had to crane his neck to even meet her mouth with how much he towered over her. Lips shifted, trailed along her jaw before sucking on her earlobe and whispering to her, deep and with promise, perhaps even threats if her heart hadn't been beating so fast with desire for him.

 

“I'll make you wish you never even thought about fucking that fool.”

 

The hand curled around her wrist slipped away, dug into her shirt and pulled at clothes but she used the moment to push him away, firmly in his chest. Any other time she doubted it'd have worked, but he recoiled with an angry hiss when she touched his wounds, maybe she'd feel bad about hurting him later but he did deserve it. For a brief moment he glared at her, parted his lips to presumably spit something volatile at her but she silenced him when she jumped into his arms, quite literally, and pushed a messy, almost crazed kiss to his mouth.

 

He staggered a little under her weight at first, then curled his arms around her, held her slight frame easily with his strength as she wrapped her arms around his neck, dug her hands into his messy short hair. Soft grunts tore from his throat when her chest pressed against his and rubbed at his wounds, but for whatever pain she was causing him he far seemed to be too consumed by the feverish kisses she gave him to care about anything else.

 

Staggering they found their way into the bedroom and she fell onto the bed beneath him, her heart hammering in her chest when he crawled over her, his eyes dark with lust and a small, all too familiar, smirk on his lips. He knelt above her, leant back on his heels while she laid under him, her cheeks flushed and pupils wide with messy hair splayed over the bed. Fingers dug into her shirt, undid the row of buttons and spreading the fabric to let him stare greedily at the swell of her small breasts.

 

“Somehow I'm not surprised you don't wear a breastband,” he murmured, a single finger tracing down that fated scar that ran down her chest.

 

“Do you think that was a priority for me when I spent most of my life wandering the Mere?”

 

He shrugged then whispered, “What I wouldn't give to have met you ten years ago.”

 

She barely caught his words, frowning for a moment but the thought fled her mind when he leant down and pressed a kiss to her chest. He ran his tongue over her scar, sucked on her breasts and nipped at the tanned skin along her throat and collarbone.

 

Lips moved lower down, trailed along her stomach before he paused at her hips and yellow eyes glanced up at her. With one swift movement he pulled down her trousers and pants. Then, he leant up, ducked his head towards her to find her lips in a kiss while he slipped a finger into her, his other arm braced by her head. She gasped softly, squirmed under him while he teased her but this time he refused to bring her to climax with his hands alone, pulling out of her just when she started bucking her hips and moaning into his mouth.

 

“Ass,” she hissed as he grinned at her, pulled back just enough to throw away his own clothes and leaving him in nothing but his bandages.

 

“Manners, Feral,” he teased, spreading her legs before him while holding her gaze. “What would dear Casavir say if he heard you speaking like that?”

 

“Fuck what he thinks.” With one swift movement he buried himself in her and she shouted, bit into her lip because damn him, it still hurt. “Fuck.” A pause, and then she added to Bishop, “Ass.”

 

“Shh,” he soothed, but it ended in a soft chuckle, perhaps he couldn't help himself. He was gentle, though, waited until she adjusted and then fucked her slowly – she hadn't really expected it from him, not that it was so different from last time but she'd expected his default to be rough and wild in bed, not bordering on loving.

 

It wasn't the same as last time, though, last time had been quicker, more desperate, as if they'd both known they couldn't take their time before someone in the Keep started to worrying. This time he teased her to climax almost agonisingly, brought her to the point where she begged him to end it and when it was almost too much she cried out, buried her forehead into his shoulder and gritted her teeth as her body jerked under him. She only barely noticed him shudder above her, his hips bucking a few last times and a deep groan spilling from his lips.

 

For a long moment he leant over her, her arms around his neck, eyes squeezed shut and his breath softly panting in her ear. Then, he slipped out of her, fell onto his back and to her surprise he pulled her against his side, wrapped his arm around her and pressed his chin to the top of her head.

 

“Bishop?” she tried, her voice soft in the darkness that was starting to set in while the sunlight through the windows dimmed.

 

He didn't reply, his chest falling in heavy breaths so she could only assume he'd already fallen asleep. With a small frown she nestled against him, curled her arm around his waist beneath his wounds and forced her eyes closed.

 

Before, she'd been content in knowing Bishop would never love her. She, herself, hadn't been entirely convinced she even felt that way about him either. Sure, she had been fond of him, but love? Now she wasn't so sure. Part of her wished she'd kicked him out days ago, returned to her isolation which was so familiar to her. Now... now she didn't want him to leave. And that concerned her almost as much as she knew it would concern him if he knew how she felt.

 

She'd never really coped with friends or family before, and the idea that she'd actually miss someone after they left scared her immensely.

 

o0o

 

The next morning she wasn't surprised to find Bishop gone and house empty but for her bear. With a soft sigh Calli rose from the bed and pushed her hair back out of her face. She walked into the kitchen, giving her bear a little scratch under her chin, and figured she should try and find some food for the day. To her surprise, however, she heard what sounded like footsteps hitting the wooden stairs that led up into the house. With a soft frown on her features she crossed the room, grabbed her scimitar and prepared herself to cast a spell as the door creaked open.

 

When Bishop walked back in, clad in leathers around his waist, a light shirt over his bandages and two rabbits in his hand, she stared dumbfounded. He glanced at her, raised an eyebrow at the weapon in her hand which she quickly put away and then strolled over to the table in the centre of the room, dropping the rabbits onto it.

 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” she asked when she finally found her voice, her arms crossing a little defensively over her chest.

 

Bishop shrugged, pulling out a dagger from the belt at his waist and starting to deftly skin the rabbits as if he'd intended to stay all along. Offhandedly, he murmured, “I don't take orders from you any more _Captain_ , remember?”

 

“So you hang around to, what... gloat?” She narrowed her eyes. “Annoy me?”

 

“Such scathing comments you make, you wound me.” For a brief moment he looked up at her, a familiar smirk painting his features.

 

“Bishop,” she said very flatly and his name was enough to make him roll his eyes. Dropping the rabbits and his dagger he stepped towards her, arms crossed over his chest and just close enough that she could have touched him if she wanted.

 

“Tell me, Feral,” he started almost too quietly, a hand reaching out to curl in a lock of her hair before pushing it behind her ear – damn him, the fleeting feel of his fingers against her made her breath hitch in her throat. “What do you _really_ plan on doing now all this is over?”

 

“I'm staying in the Mere, away from everything.” She tried to give him a hard, serious look but she felt like she was melting in those yellow eyes of his, her hands falling to her sides and body relaxing some of the tension she didn't realised she'd built up. “Perhaps stay here for a while, unless the villagers come back. But I'm not going back to Neverwinter or Crossroad Keep.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, lips pressed into a thin almost calculating line as she continued. “And you? Going to run to Chult or Amn and annoy people with your winning personality there?”

 

“Watch it,” he snapped, his eyes flashing for a moment with warning. “Or I might reconsider what I'm about to say.”

 

“And what's that?”

 

A hand moved up to her face, his thumb running over her lower lip and making her consciously try and stop herself from jumping into his arms. “I was going to say that if you're planning on ditching Nasher and staying in this swamp a while... maybe I'd think about joining you.”

 

As offhandedly as she could manage, she replied with, “Implying that I want your company.”

 

Her words clearly irritated him because he cast her a dark look, a small growl rumbling in his throat as his hand fell from her cheek. “Damnit, girl, the way you were begging last night I know you do.”

 

Part of her didn't want to trust what he was saying, so with a small sigh she asked, “What are getting at, Bishop?”  
  


He very near glared at her, the frustration evident on his features before he replied, pointedly, “Look, don't expect me to be there every morning when you wake up, hell I don't even think you're the kind of woman who likes to be tied down either, but if you want-”

 

With a grin playing on her features she put a finger against his lips and silenced him. “Oh, shut up and kiss me already you fool.”

 

For a split second she almost wondered if he wouldn't do it just to spite her, but then a smirk stole over his face and he grabbed her roughly at the waist, pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. She gasped into his mouth, cupped his face in her hands, felt the rough stubble grazing against her skin and his tongue prying open her lips. Before she knew it, he was carrying her back into the bedroom, the rabbits abandoned in the kitchen while they fell onto the bed, Bishop covering her body with feverish kisses.

 

In the weeks and months that came, the fire between them never dulled, no many how many times they were separated they still came crashing together with burning passion every time. It wasn't perfect and she didn't expect him to be there every morning when she woke up. Even then, sometimes she was the one that was missing. He'd leave for days or weeks on end, seemingly disappearing on her completely and she'd do the same from time to time. But they always found their way back to that little deserted village, and always to each other.

 

Maybe he did love her, maybe he didn't - she never asked, but it was enough for her.

 


End file.
